{A/N: Heavenly Demonic Quote No. 1: "Those who don't fight for what they have, don't deserve to reclaim what they've lost.
Also, let's aim for 50 comments this chapter, please! Pleassseeeeee! 🙏 Last time we missed it, but I know we can hit it this time, so don't forget to leave your thoughts! Let's make it happen! }
"Wh-Wha..." Hiroshi stammered, his voice barely a whisper as the shock of the situation hit him like a cold wave. His legs suddenly felt like jelly, trembling under his weight.
For a moment, he wondered if it was fear or some sort of strange qi attack. He was a shinobi, sure, but barely at the genin level.
Hiroshi often wondered how he'd even managed to survive the ANBU's attempt on his life. Probably dumb luck again—just like the massacre.
As he stood there, struggling to make sense of what was happening, his two beaten-up subordinates desperately waved their hands, making awkward gestures that could only be interpreted as, "Run, boss, run!"
But before Hiroshi could even think about that, Shin's fist shot out. "Pest," he muttered, delivering a casual punch to each of the bandits' faces without even bothering to look at them.
Their heads snapped back, and they crumpled to the ground like discarded trash.
In one smooth motion, Shin sent a pulse of qi to his legs and launched himself into the air, clearing several floors of the tower in a single leap. The force of his jump rattled the wood beneath him, but Shin hardly cared.
His qi reserves might have only been enough to classify him as a second-grade martial artist, but it was more than enough for trivial things like this.
He'd have to work on that later, though. Power like his needed to grow—and quickly.
"So..." Shin landed lightly on the balcony where Hiroshi stood, his black robe billowing slightly from the jump. He straightened up, not even winded, and casually extended his hand. Flames flickered to life in his palm, their heat radiating with an eerie intensity. "...Now, choose one of the options."
Hiroshi froze, wide-eyed and pale as the firelight danced across his face. His legs finally gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, his back hitting the wooden balcony railing with a thud.
Shin had appeared so suddenly, so effortlessly, that Hiroshi's mind struggled to process it.
Fear surged through him, but beneath that terror was something else—pride. Stubborn, foolish pride.
I won't yield! he thought desperately, clenching his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms, drawing blood.
Even though the terror threatened to overwhelm him, Hiroshi couldn't let himself be humiliated by some brat—someone ten years younger than him. It was a disgrace to his name, to his clan, to everything he once was.
Blood dripped from his clenched fists, pooling into his palms until his hands were completely soaked. It looked like he was wearing some sort of crimson gloves.
It was a blood control jutsu, a technique passed down from Hiroshi's great-grandfather. It had been created during the war against the Chinoike clan, meant to counter their infamous blood manipulation.
At one time, it was a feared and respected jutsu, but over the years, its effectiveness had diminished.
Now, it was considered one of the most pathetic techniques around—its users could barely cover their bodies with blood, much less control it freely like the old masters.
Hiroshi's fists, still dripping with blood, clenched tighter. "DIE!" he screamed, desperation and rage fueling his last attempt at resistance.
But before Hiroshi could even move, a searing palm landed on his face, flames igniting instantly. His skin crackled and burned away within seconds, his scream dying in his throat before it even began.
For a brief, horrifying moment, his skull looked like it belonged to the Ghost Rider, fire consuming him entirely.
At least he had his second of fame, Shin thought, watching Hiroshi's body disintegrate with a faint look of boredom. The man didn't even have a chance to cry out in agony—he was snuffed out just like that.
What a loser.
Shin stood there, unfazed by the carnage. Hiroshi's life had ended in a heartbeat, reduced to nothing but a charred memory. The Fist of Phoenix truly lived up to its grand-master level reputation. Not a single trace of the man remained—not even ashes.
A technique like this was once considered on par with Susanoo if mastered to its peak. But alas, it was overshadowed by the Heavenly Demon's divine flames, flames said to burn down fate itself.
Shin sighed, shaking his head. "So much potential, wasted on trash like him."
His gaze flicked downward to the two surviving bandits, still standing in terrified silence on the ground below.
They flinched under his eyes, their faces pale, the weight of their boss's death hitting them hard. Shin, sitting casually on the balcony fence like some overconfident chad, tilted his head, smirking slightly.
"You two," he called out, his voice calm but cutting through the air like a blade. "How many of you pests are there in total?"
The bandits exchanged a quick, panicked glance. They knew they were next if they didn't answer.
Meanwhile, far away in the Land of Tea…
"Yawn! Neji, do we really have to wake up so early in the morning?" Rock Lee asked between yawns, rubbing his tired eyes.
His voice echoed through the nearly empty streets of the small city, where Team Guy had been staying. The sun had barely risen, and the peaceful quiet of dawn wasn't helping Lee stay awake.
Beside him, Tenten also yawned, looking like she might collapse from exhaustion any second. "I second that… This is way too early."
Up ahead, the third member of their group, Neji, kept walking, his usual serious expression firmly in place.
His steps were steady, his focus unshaken, despite the sleepy complaints behind him. He barely acknowledged their whining.
"Rock Lee," Neji said, his voice carrying that calm, no-nonsense tone he was famous for. "Can't you act a bit more mature for once? I told you—I have something important to buy here."
Lee blinked, rubbing his eyes again as he tried to keep up. "Important? What could be so important that we have to wake up at the crack of dawn?"
Neji didn't bother to answer, his thoughts elsewhere. The truth was, they were leaving the Land of Tea in a few days, and Neji still hadn't bought the gifts he intended to get. Specifically, for Hinata. After all, what kind of brother would he be if he didn't bring back something special for her?
'A proper oni-chan should always look out for his family', Neji thought, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
You can say in the past two years the relation between neji and the main hyuga family have become quite good to say at least.
As they continued walking, Team Guy finally reached a small ramen stand tucked into the side of the street. Sitting at the counter, surrounded by a few guards, was a boy with black hair and brown eyes—Shin, or rather, his blood clones.
{A/N: The clone have brown eyes}
The moment Shin saw them approach, he stood up with a wide, welcoming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"You're already here," he said cheerfully.
Neji, keeping his composure, responded with a similar fake smile. "Yeah, I didn't think making someone wait was a good thing."
In truth, Neji could barely hide his irritation. Shin had agreed to help him buy gifts from the city's elite shops, and while he appreciated the assistance, something about Shin's overly friendly demeanor put him on edge. The whole arrangement felt… off.
But he couldn't afford to pass up Shin's knowledge of the city. After all, Shin had been living here for quite some time, and he knew all the best places to find the high-quality items Neji was after.
"So, shall we start?" Shin asked with exaggerated enthusiasm, his smile so wide it looked like it might crack. It was painfully obvious the excitement was as fake as the blood clone itself.
Neji gave a slight nod, keeping his reservations to himself. "Lead the way."
Poor Neji had no idea that the devil himself, Shin, was right in front of him, about to turn his entire life upside down for his own gain.
...
While Shin and his blood clone were busy setting their plans into motion, somewhere far removed from the ordinary world, in a vast space filled with dark blue and golden branches—each one representing a different timeline—stood a perfectly handsome man.
His void-like black hair gradually turned silver at the tips, and his piercing red eyes surveyed the expanse before him. This was Cheon Ma, the Heavenly Demon.
"Hmm... I'm certain someone was spying on me from one of these timelines," Cheon Ma muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on the sprawling branches. "But from which one?"
As he continued to scan the endless possibilities, his expression calm but focused, another figure materialized behind him.
This newcomer had a body that seemed to be composed of time and space itself—a clone of an entity beyond comprehension. Despite the sudden appearance, Cheon Ma didn't react.
"Hoho, Cheon Ma," the figure said with amusement. "I didn't know you'd take such an interest in the distant future."
Without even glancing back, Cheon Ma replied dismissively, "Hmm... You're omnipotent. Why don't you help me then?"
The figure chuckled casually, his voice dripping with nonchalance. "Nah… everything will reveal itself when the time is right."
Cheon Ma's eyes continued to move through the branches, unbothered by the cryptic reply.
{A/N: Ooooh, the real question is what twisted, hidden connection does the Heavenly Demon have with our MC? If someone can figure that out, I'll personally give you the moderator role—no joke!
Maybe they were enemies? Maybe they're the same person from different timelines? Who knows? Start theorizing! }